


Five times Sherlock and John pretended to be a couple (and one time they didn't)

by ColdeLinke



Series: 5 times + 1 [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Gift Exchange, M/M, Teenlock, balletlock, exchangelock 2014, handjobs, rugbylock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 16:33:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1948236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColdeLinke/pseuds/ColdeLinke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The title says it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five times Sherlock and John pretended to be a couple (and one time they didn't)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [221bcumberland](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=221bcumberland).



1.

"John. JOHN!"

A young blond boy sighed and looked up from his paper. He saw his friends watching him with a smile, as if knowing exactly what was going to happen to him. He supposed they did, since he himself knew.

"Yes Sherlock?" he said with a raised eyebrow at the dark-haired man who approached his table.

"I need you for —" he glanced at Mike and Bill, "an experiment. You have to come immediately."

"I am studying Sherlock," John narrowed his eyes at him.

"Yes I am well aware, however I can certify that this is much more important than some —"

John sent him a look and Sherlock stopped talking. He pursed his lips and rolled his eyes.

"Just, will you come?"

John pretended to need a few seconds to think it over before he nodded. He said his goodbyes to his friends who watched him knowingly before he followed his best friend who practically bounced with excitement.

"So, what do you need me for? I'm pretty sure you were lying about that experiment out there," John said once they were out of hear shot.

"Excellent deduction John," Sherlock snorted but went on, ignoring the dark look his friend sent his way.

"I need to keep an eye on Cathy while she's training, therefore I might require an excuse as to why I am standing behind the glass watching her, hm, moves."

John's eyes widened and he stopped walking. Sherlock turned towards him, frowning.

"What's the matter?"

"Do you, like, fancy Cathy?" John asked with confusion.

"What? No, no!" Sherlock exclaimed. "I just want to have the main role."

"For the ballet?"

"Obviously," Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Well, what's going to be your excuse then? We're going to pretend that we're doing our homework or something?"

John saw Sherlock looking away from him, playing with his hands as he winced. John had never seen Sherlock look so sheepish. "Not really…"

"Sherlock."

"You'll see, it might not even need to happen anyway!"

Sherlock walked more quickly towards the building with John in his wake. The older boy was more frustrated than annoyed, but since he was used to it, he let it go. When they arrived at the doors of the room where dancers trained, Sherlock leaned on a column and watched through one of the many windows.

"Ugh, she does that better than me," he muttered after fifteen minutes of silence (John counted. He was bored. Sherlock's fault).

"I didn't know that was possible," John smirked with a raised eyebrow. Sherlock ignored him. He sighed. He observed Cathy dance, could appreciate the way her body moved and the grace of her movements. But there was one person that he liked to watch more and that was Sherlock. So he diverted his gaze and resolved to think about one of the new techniques he had come up with for the rugby team. Being a captain was sometimes difficult.

"Damn it. She's seen us."

Sherlock threw his arms around John and put his hands on his hips and back. "Wha —"

"Shut up."

"Sherlock!" he protested but then Sherlock bit his ear lobe and John's knees nearly gave out. Two seconds later, Sherlock let him go.

"Uh, it worked," Sherlock said as if he couldn't believe it.

"You — you bastard!"

"Oh relax John," he rolled his eyes, "you'll get over it."

 

 

2.

The music was deafening, the place too crowded, and the body pressed against him suffocating. John wanted only one thing and that was to leave. He just wasn't sure he would have the opportunity to without being rude, and he did not want that. Not now, at least. Not without a proper way to make her understand that whatever she wanted, he would not be the one giving it to her. He liked her as a friend, but he did not want to take things further, and it seemed she was only his friend for that purpose.

"How about we go somewhere more… private?" Laura said in his ear, pressing herself against his even more. Her hand slid down his back and gripped his butt.

He jumped and tore away from her. With a gesture indicating his ear, he pretended not to have heard her. He smiled uneasily and escaped swiftly, glad to have the excuse of the music being too loud for him to understand.

The next morning, he was telling the story to Sherlock ("And she looked disappointed when I left but I couldn't be next to her any longer or the truth would have just… slipped out of my mouth —") when he saw her walking towards them. She wore a big smile and he panicked. In that moment, he could only envision two options and although neither were good, one was much preferable to the other.

So he turned to his best friend, grabbed his arm, murmured "Don't freak out" and kissed the corner of Sherlock's mouth. He lingered, even as he felt Sherlock freeze against him. Once he was sure she'd have seen, he pulled away. Sherlock's face was expressionless for all but John, who knew him better than anyone. John licked his lips. Sherlock let out the breath he had obviously been holding and opened his mouth to speak only to be cut off by someone else.

"Wow Johnny, go get him!" John's cheeks reddened but he gave the finger to Matt, another rugby player, even as he stepped further away from Sherlock.

"I — I have rugby practice," he lied, even though Sherlock knew he did not. He fled, tried not to run and failed.

 

 

3.

They did not talk about. Pretended it never happened, just like the first one. The first change between them.

Three weeks later, Sherlock came to him just before dinner, asking him to go with him as he looked for proof that Daniel Vanpert really was dealing drugs. How could John refuse? (He couldn't). He agreed. Together, they trailed after Vanpert, and wandered from his house to Tesco to his house again. The next night, Vanpert went to a AA meeting and then to a girl's. The next, he stayed home, watching telly. Sherlock was getting more frustrated, John more tired. Then, one night, they followed him to a club. Vanpert's eyes suspicious as he checked that he wasn't being followed, failing to see them as they hid and pursued him once he turned his attention away. They watched as he entered the club, finding his way easily through a queue of adults, waiting to gain entry to the same club.

"Now what?" John asked. Sherlock gestured to the back alley of the club and they both walked to it with a quick pace.

"Now, we wait."

"How do you know he is going to leave from this door and not the one he entered at by the way?"

"Isn't it obvious?" John glared, Sherlock snorted.

"Of course not. Well, since he is going in with the intention of selling drugs — and we know that he is, he wouldn't have been so frightened to being followed if he wasn't — he's hardly going to walk out the front door, wouldn't you agree?" John conceded, although it seemed to him that it was a pretty weak argument. Not that he would tell Sherlock that.

They waited for close to an hour, Sherlock pacing and occasionally taking a cigarette out of its packet, only to drop it once he saw John's look. The older boy leaned against the brick wall, eyes fluttering shut every few seconds, battling against the urge to sleep.

A door banged suddenly and he heard two voices talk loudly. He recognized Vanpert's voice. He jumped and threw a glance at Sherlock, asking silently what he was supposed to do. Sherlock looked resigned as he embraced John, pushing him further against the wall. John's back hit it and John groaned.

"He's going to be suspicious if we don't make him believe we're kissing," Sherlock whispered into his ear and he ruffled John's blonde hair. He then proceeded in kissing his neck, his breath hot making John shiver, almost with pleasure. He felt Sherlock lick and bite at one place, and he moaned, incapable of believing that this was happening. Sherlock trembled when he heard John. His kisses moved up and just as he reached John's jaw, someone yelled "Hey kids, do that somewhere else!"

Sherlock startled, licking John's chin inadvertently as he jerked away. Vanpert was gone, the voice was the person who had been with him. John squirmed under the man's gaze, even as Sherlock avoided his. He pointedly looked at him, surprised to see Sherlock's cheeks blush, and bit his lower lip. He shook his head and touched Sherlock's arm to make him look up.

"Come on, let's go home. We'll catch him another time."

For the next few days, John wore a scarf to hide the mark on his neck; and once he was safely hidden in his bathroom, he touched and caressed it, his heart bursting with happiness and hope.

 

 

4.

"I'm sorry for this, I know it's quite late —" John's father said, only to be interrupted by Sherlock's mother.

"Oh it's no trouble at all, dear, I'm always glad to see John," she smiled at him and he glanced at his feet.

"Thank you! John, I'll pick you up tomorrow alright? Thanks again!" His father waved off as he rushed to the car, Harry bruised and bleeding in the backseat, her head on his mother's lap.

"Well, come on in John, you're no stranger here," Violet smiled again, beckoning him to enter so he did. She told him to take off his jacket and to follow him into the kitchen.

"Did you eat?" She asked and he shook his head. "That's okay, I'll make you a sandwich and a cup of tea, would you like that?"

He nodded hesitantly and stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, watching her prepare his meal.

"I can — I can do it, if you want. If you've — others things to do," he said in a low voice and she dismissed his politeness with a soft smile. They heard steps on the stairs a few seconds later, Sherlock's frantic voice calling out his name.

"John? What's wrong? Why are you here?" Sherlock stepped into view and observed John, his eyes wandering from his head to toe, checking for injuries.

"I'm fine, I'm alright, it's Harry, she got herself beaten up, Mum and Dad are taking her to the hospital. They didn't want me to stay at home alone, so they dropped me here," John explained, the corner of his mouth lifting as he clearly saw apprehension written all over his friend's face.

"Oh," Sherlock's mask was back on and he rolled his eyes. "Well, that's not surprising, given her —"

"William!"

"I told you not to call me that," Sherlock muttered, pouting.

"That is the name I have given you and I shall use it whenever I please," Violet said sternly before turning to John.

"Here, dear, eat, it'll make you feel better."

They all sat down around the table, John eating, Sherlock sulking, Violet talking.

"Now, how many times have I told you that it is not smart to judge people's relationships and diminish their feelings if you have never had one, Liam?"

"Many times."

"That's right. You should know better! You need to find someone and try to have a serious — and I do mean serious — relationship before you can even begin to do that! Although, if you could refrain from doing it altogether, that would be better."

John snorted, knowing that Sherlock would never be able to do that, and Sherlock sent him a dark look.

"None of that, Liam. Oh, what about that nice girl, the daughter of hm — what's his name again?" she pondered but before she could finish her thoughts, Sherlock lashed out, "I am in a relationship! With John!"

John choked on the bite of his sandwich, Violet startled with glee and Sherlock groaned.

"I meant, friendship. My friendship with John is serious and —"

"Oh William, there's no reason to lie now, you've given it all away!" she laughed then stopped. "John, dear, there's no need to get yourself in that state! It's absolutely alright, I completely approve of this relationship," she smiled at him even as he tried to swallow the last of his meal with a gulp of tea.

"Well, then," Sherlock hesitated, looked at John with an apologetic expression and John's eyes widened as he thought "oh don't you dare".

"I don't see any reason why we should continue to pretend, then, right John?" John could have strangled him right there, but with Violet right next to him, that might not be a good idea, so he refrained — barely.

"Right," he said through gritted teeth.

"Oh, that's absolutely lovely! Well, I'll leave you two alone then," she winked and added, "John can just sleep in your bed, I won't have to do the laundry for another bed."

Sherlock blushed and started to protest, before realizing that it would not convince his mother of what he had said. John just sighed in resignation. And then Violet left the room and Sherlock and John were alone.

"Why on earth did you tell her that?" John growled out, in a murmur for fear she was still near.

"So that she'd leave me alone with these — suitors. She invited three of them, last week! I can't handle it anymore, I'm going to go mad!"

"So what? Your solution to that is lying to her and telling her that we're together?" John said the last two words as if they were poison.

"Well… yes. She took me by surprise! And her assumption was perfect! I couldn't have thought of a better plan," Sherlock said smugly.

"Oh, you are going to regret this, Holmes." Sherlock laughed.

"Come on, Watson, let's go to bed."

Once in Sherlock's room, John turned his back on him and shrugged out of his shirt and trousers, finding it too hot to keep his shirt on. He kept his pants on and climbed under the covers hastily, embarrassed at his near nudity. He observed the ceiling as he heard Sherlock undress and closed his eyes when Sherlock lay down beside him. There was a space between their bodies but John could still feel the heat of Sherlock's. He breathed raggedly and tried to sleep.

When he woke up, it was to a hot body thrusting against his, a hard cock between his clothed asscheeks, a hand around his own and hot, unevenly breaths against the back of his neck. He moaned, half-asleep, and started thrusting into the fist that brought him to pleasure. He heard a murmur of his name and he shivered. He panted and reached down to touch Sherlock's hand and guide him. Sherlock swore and said his name and John came. His eyes still close, his mind and body bursting with pleasure, he almost missed Sherlock coming, his come tainting John's pants, teeth biting lightly John's neck. They both relaxed against the other, the hand that had previously been on his cock slid to his stomach, John's fingers intertwined with Sherlock's, as they both fall back asleep.

The next morning, Sherlock did the same thing he always did: pretended nothing had happened. John, hurt, never mentioned it either. At least now he knew Sherlock did not feel the same way about him.

 

 

5.

Tonight was the night of Sherlock's ballet. John knew how hard Sherlock had worked on it, spent hours practicing, hurting his feet and sometimes forgetting to eat, never letting John take care of him. If he got Sherlock to eat an apple and a packet of biscuits here and there, that was a miracle. Knowing how important it was to Sherlock, he ignored his hurt feelings and joined every spectator in the theatre.

He went out back, trying to find Sherlock backstage, wanting to wish him luck (even though he knew Sherlock would scoff at him, "there's no such thing as luck, John") before gaining his seat. He asked several people if they'd seen him but they just shook their heads at him. Confused and a bit worried, he moved towards the yells that could be heard from down the corridor.

"You've been flirting with her, haven't you?" A guy was shouting, hands clenched into fists as he stared up at a calm-looking Sherlock.

"I certainly hope not," John said, interrupting the boy. "Otherwise, he and I would need to have a serious conversation."

"John?" Sherlock frowned at him. But John ignored him. He walked up to him, grabbed his face and stood on tiptoes. He put his lips on Sherlock's, softly at first, then bit down and kissed him more fiercely.

"I'll be watching you, love," he said with a grin, and, not letting Sherlock any time to do anything, left. He sat down at his place, next to Violet Holmes, who smiled at him knowingly.

 

 

+1.

John came out of his slumbering state abruptly as he heard a knock on his window. He slipped out of bed and opened it to let someone in.

"Sherlock?" John asked with eyes barely open and messy hair.

"Why did you do that?" Sherlock demanded, reproach in his tone.

"What? What're you talkin' 'bout?" John could only blame sleepiness on his confusion.

"Oh. That. Sherlock, can't that wait 'till t'morrow?"

"No." John sat down on his bed, sighed and passed a hand through his hair. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head in an attempt to wake himself.

"Right. Well. Hm, there are a couple of reasons. First of all, that guy was bothering you, and I didn't want him to punch you, or, worse, because you would have probably been replaced then, for the ballet I mean, and I know how much it meant — means, to you." He paused, Sherlock looked at him pointedly, urging him to go on. John dropped his gaze to his hands that were resting on his lap.

"And, I also, kind of, wanted to," he phrased it as a question, unsure of himself. He played with his hands and breathed, once, twice. "I wanted to. To kiss you. Because I like you. Well, no, I love you, really, but since that's not something someone says to his or her best friend —"

"John," his name being uttered the way it was, with fascination and wonder, made him look up. Sherlock was looking at him with wide eyes, wrinkles at the corner, an hesitant smile across his lips. John's breath caught.

"John. Do you, really?"

"Do I really what, Sherlock?" he asked for precision, got up from the bed.

"Love me," his best friend whispered, his eyes never looking away from John's face.

"Of course I do," John said softly. "I love you."

Sherlock kissed him, a bit awkwardly, too fiercely. John redirected the kiss and made it more tender, softer. Sherlock moaned against his lips and John grinned. His hands found their way to Sherlock's hair and he tugged at it gently and was rewarded with a full-bodied shiver and an erection pressing against his hips.

"I do, too," Sherlock said in hushed tones as they broke apart to breathe. John smiled against his cheek.

After John's next game, after he scored and the team won, Sherlock came up to him on the field and kissed him in front of everyone, whispering filthy things in his ear to hear his gasps.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a gift for the Exchangelock AU 2014 and to 221bcumberland (on tumblr). I hope you like your gift but know that if you don't, I would like it if you told me so I could write something else that you would appreciate more :) Also sorry for posting it so late! Hope you weren't worried!  
> Note that English is not my first language and this has not been beta-read nor brit-picked.  
> (I have never written a sexytimes scene before so... apologies for that!)


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